The Cure
by HappyDappyDrunk
Summary: Violetta T. Brown is a known genius in the wizarding world, and when she annouces a cure for death, nothing will stop the Dark Lord from making it his. To protect her and the cure, the Order picks the most unlikely candidate for the job, Remus J. Lupin.


A/N:

Alright... I couldn't resist putting this up, but unlike the others, I have at least four other chapters written, just not typed up and finished being edited. So you won't have to wait quite so long on updates. :D

This is sort of AU, because it will eventually be set in Harry's sixth year.

Don't forget to review. It gives me encouragement to update faster.

Cheers,

H.D.D.

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Disclaimer: I own only the plot. ...But if she's interested in selling...

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**The Cure**

Prologue: A Unwelcome Change

A Miss Violetta T. Brown sat in a hard, wooden chair, smoothing out her caramel colored skirt and eyeing the curious office around her. With a shade of a smile, she tried to remember the last time she had been here, staring at the moving portraits of the deceased Hogwarts' headmasters of old. The crinkle of paper alerted her attention to the old man sitting in front of her, holding her resume. With a nod and a tight smile, he set the parchment down on the claw-footed desk, looking over half-moon spectacles at her.

"You are certainly more than qualified for the job, Miss Brown," Dumbledore announced.

The woman beamed. "Tawdy, please, Professor," she said, disliking the formality. Busying herself with a wrinkle on her blouse, she continued. "So... When do I start?"

The old wizard gave a knowing frown. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you're a little _too_ qualified."

"What?" Violetta exclaimed, hopping to her feet. She shifted her bewildered glance away from the headmaster, replying in a shaky tone. "Too qualified? When can a person be too qualified for Hogwarts?"

"Calm down, Tawdy," he urged. "I didn't mean to offend you, but there are certain circumstances-"

"I'll have you know that I am one of the most sought out witches to employ! I turned down four offers just to come meet with you, and believe me, those salaries are better than any teacher's!"

"I am truly sorry for the trouble I've caused, but you must hear me out," Dumbledore said, standing and resting a hand on Violetta's shoulder. She took a deep, composed breath before nodding and sinking back into the chair. "As I said before, I am sorry for bringing you here, only to turn you away, but I believe the other candidate is more suited for this job."

"Who is this other candidate, Albus?" she demanded with a strange malice in her voice, overlooking the rude slip of the headmaster's name.

"I think it for the-"

"Who?" Her eyes narrowed behind gold frames.

Knowing a fight was useless, he sighed. "Remus Lupin."

Violetta's mouth dropped. "Lupin?" she asked in disbelief. "You're going to hire... _Lupin_?"

Dumbledore gave a short nod. "He is more experienced in the field-"

She laughed. "By two years."

"And with Sirius Black's recent escape-"

"You can't possibly believe he would know where Black is," she snapped, frizzy waves of chestnut falling out of the bun, which at the beginning had been twisted back gracefully.

"Of course not, but Remus knows Sirius better than anyone... And he can help keep an eye on Harry."

She snorted. "Better hope Black doesn't come after the boy with a knife on the full moon."

Dumbledore gave her a warning glance. "Also, you know as much as I how Remus needs this job-"

"I do _not_ have time for this equality and werewolf lib. crap. Believe me, I know. That's half the reason I agreed to help create the Wolfsbane potion."

"If you don't mind me asking, what was the other half?"

A blush washed over her cheeks. "That's not important."

A smile played on the headmaster's lips. That smile pushed her over the cliff, leaving a sour feeling. She grabbed her bag, standing briskly.

"Before I leave, know this Albus Dumbledore, You are making the _biggest_ mistake of your life! I could have done great things for this school, but know I want nothing to do with it! In two or three years from now, when you so desperately need a new teacher, you may as well just have to settle for a troll, because I am _never_ coming back here!"

Shouldering her bag, she stormed out of the office, bumping into McGonagall on her way off the staircase. The headmaster let out a weary sigh, having a feeling she just may have been right.


End file.
